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Category Archives: Depression

With an impending restructure at work, my days have been a bit more stress-filled than usual. My team of six has been reduced for now to a team of three – and we’re doing our best to keep things going despite the sense of doom and gloom about the place.

In the midst of all this turmoil, staff have been dropping like flies… with record numbers of sick days. As for me, who rarely gets sick enough to justify a day off work, I’ve been day-dreaming about taking a “sick day” to just, well… decompress.

Spending a day battling the flu wasn’t quite the “sick day” I’d been hoping for.

In my mind, I imagined I’d time my “sick day” for when the kids were at school/kinder so that I could sleep in ’till 10am and then go out for a brunch with my husband (who is currently studying at home).

I then planned to dig out one of my craft projects – which have been ignored for the past 2.5 years since I went back to full-time work. And I’d end the day by picking up my kids (who would be surprised to see Mum rather than Dad waiting outside their classroom) and then welcoming them home to home-cooked cookies.

My work has an official name for days like this. I know it’s “technically” fine to take a mental health day, but I don’t know about you – I still struggle with the idea of taking a day off when I don’t physically appear sick.

Go to work with a hacking cough or a dripping nose and people encourage you to go home and rest up. But arrive at work crippled with anxiety, depression or stress and no-one is any the wiser. It’s easier to hide feelings of despair, depression and hopelessness than a fever. I worked through months of acute depression – and no-one at work noticed, until I made a point of telling them about the struggle I was having.

Not that I advocate hiding your mental illness from your employer. I have let my manager know about my condition – and I’d like to think my employees feel comfortable enough to share with me. Yet, I’m well aware that just telling your staff that they’re technically allowed to take time off to deal with mental health issues doesn’t make it easy to actually do it. We need senior staff to model that it’s actually ok.

Today, I finally got my sick day.

Only problem was, it really was a sick day. And it struck on a Saturday morning. Sure I got to spend the morning in bed…. but that was where I stayed for most of the weekend. And as for a leisurely lunch with my husband – well let’s just say that I wasn’t feeling up for any kind of date. Instead of feeling free to enjoy a Monday off work… I found myself dealing with 1000’s of tissues and an aching body that didn’t want to do anything but lie down.

Moaning that “this isn’t what a sick day is meant to be like…” my husband kindly pointed out what I was after wasn’t a “sick day” but a “sickie”. Hmm… I’d better be careful what I wish for next time.

Mariska xx

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Psyciatric wards have come a long way in the last 50 years. But what’s changed in the last decade?

Eight weeks ago, I did something that I swore I would never do. I walked back through the doors of the public hospital psychiatric ward where I spent some of the worst weeks of my life, after the birth of my first baby eight years ago.

This time, I hadn’t arrived in the back of a police divvy van. I wasn’t disoriented or confused about why I was there. My mind wasn’t racing or tricking me with delusions. And I wasn’t greeted by emergency room staff who held me down and injected me with who-knows-what.

So why was I there?

Well, it started a few weeks beforehand, when I was out walking with a group of women. When I found out that one of the women was a nurse in the psychiatric ward where I had been a patient, I shared my story with her.

After mentioning how shocked I was at the conditions in the ward when I was there, she invited me to come and see the changes that had taken place at the pysch ward since then.

One of the biggest changes I noticed straight away in the psych ward was the staff – and their attitude towards the patients. Eight years ago, the horrific conditions meant the hospital I was in couldn’t attract or retain staff. They filled the gaps with temporary agency nursing staff and “carers”.

This may work in a regular hospital ward, but when you’re mentally unwell, having dedicated, committed staff is critical. Seeing regular faces – rather than a steady stream of agency staff – also helps us as patients to trust our carers. When you’re struggling with psychosis, depression, suicidal thoughts or delusions, a kind word or a gentle touch from nursing staff goes a long way. Patients deserve experienced staff who are committed to their patients and the reputation of the ward they work in.

2. It’s more than just medical help: the right atmosphere in a ward is integral

Less than two months after I left the ward eight years ago, it was demolished. To be honest, I’m not surprised. It was a dark, dingy place – with cramped conditions, unsuitable living areas and a small concrete courtyard where patients could walk in circles for exercise.

Entering the new purpose-built building, I immediately noticed the big picture windows, fresh colorful paint, friendly atmosphere and artwork on the walls. The head nurse proudly showed me the art-therapy room, family visit room (with direct street entrance so kids didn’t need to walk through the ward to get there) and an outdoor eating and sports area. There was even a dark room with bean bags, rocking chairs, weighted blankets, soft music, projected light patterns and musical instruments – a place where people struggling with mania could go to calm or soothe themselves.

I know it’s only superficial stuff. But sometimes, the way a place looks, smells and even feels can have such an impact on the way patients feel about being there.

3. Our voices have been heard: patients must be kept safe from harm by other patients

I’ve left the best change for last. The biggest change that I could see was that, while they shared the dining room and common areas, men and women had separate sleeping areas. Upon admission, female patients receive an electronic bracelet that gives them access to the female-only sleeping quarters and a small lounge room that they can retreat to if they feel unsafe. The ward was also built with two wing that could be used as required: one for regular mentally unwell people and the other for those displaying violent or predatory behaviour.

THIS IS INCREDIBLE, AMAZING STUFF!

I guess you’re sensing my excitement. Well, in my mind this is a game-changer.

In this ward in the past – and most likely in many others around the world – vulnerable, unwell female patients (and in some cases male) have been attacked or raped by other patients. You can’t compare a psych ward to other hospital wards – where patients are there because they are physically unwell. Genders sharing sleeping quarters in situations where people are psychotic, delusional and not “in their right mind” – and not giving women a safe space – is a recipe for disaster.

I was reassured to see that the safety of women in this psych ward at least, is now top-of-mind for staff. And in the case that I’m every a patient there again, I’d be very pleased to know that staff now have the ability to separate out patients known for their violence or predatory behavior.

Have these changes been made in every psychiatric ward?

While I’d love to believe they had, I doubt it. Less than 50 years ago conditions in psychiatric wards – or mental asylums as they were called – were barbaric. Change has come, but lack of funds or political will means that it is slower in some places than others.

As people who know what it’s like to be mentally unwell and vulnerable, we need to band together and keep asking for change. Without our voices, speaking up about the conditions in these wards and insisting that changes are made, others like us will continue to suffer.

Mariska xxx

Have you noticed any changes or improvements in psychiatric wards over the past decade?

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I like op-shopping. There’s nothing like walking into an opportunity shop, with a purse filled with coins, and walking out with some amazing recycled finds.

At the moment, my favourite winter jacket, scarf and leather boots are all from op-shops and cost a total of AUS$18. The boots are a brand I really like and had never been worn, the jacket is a stunning blue wool and just looking at the gorgeous orange striped scarf makes me feel happy.

Me rocking my op-shop jacket and scarf!

I’ve written before about how much I love taking something set for the rubbish dump and turning it into something beautiful and useful. One of my favourite rescued pieces is the white buffet, sitting in my family room.

The last time I was in an op-shop, I came across a pile of old sheet music. Something about the beautiful old music, printed in the 1920’s and carefully wrapped in brown paper, caught my eye and I couldn’t leave without buying it. I had no idea what I would do with it – my piano playing skills are a little too rusty for such complicated pieces – but I knew that I couldn’t leave it behind.

Today I woke up to the sound of rain. Being Saturday, I was looking forward to spending some time with the kids – and a crafting afternoon sounded just about right. While the kids made cards for friends, I pulled out some supplies and set about turning the sheet music into something special.

A few hours later, I had turned the unwanted music sheets into a couple of cute heart pictures (see below) and a bunch of unique cards for friends’ birthdays.

A new use for old sheet music

Hanging the pictures on my wall, I was struck again by how something that seemed old and not good for anything but the bin, was – a couple of hours later – something so beautiful.

Sometimes life can leave us feeling so down, that we start thinking we’re no longer of value to society. I know when I was sitting alone, locked in a psychiatric ward after the birth of my first baby, I started thinking that my life was pretty much over. The fear and loathing in the eyes of the ward staff affirmed this thought – that I was no longer an educated, articulate young woman respected by those around me… but someone who had to be kept heavily medicated and away from the rest of society.

At that time, I pretty much felt like those sheets of music, once highly-valued but now abandoned and destined for the bin. And yet, looking at the new pictures on my wall – made from the recycled music sheets – I was reminded of my own journey. Here I am, eight and a half years later, not only living with mental illness, but thriving.

Being diagnosed with Bipolar Disorder at the age of 18 was a huge blow. And it’s something that I’ve had to learn to live with over the past 19 years. But it hasn’t meant the end of life as I knew it. I have still gone on to become a wife, a mother, an employee and a friend.

Like the sheet music transformed into something very different, my life may not look exactly like it used to – but it is beautiful in an equally special and valuable way.

My prayer is that everyone reading this who is going through hard times, will realise that while your life may not look quite like you had planned, it may well in the end turn out to be even better than you originally hoped. Don’t ever think that your life is not worth living. Don’t ever give up.

Mariska xx

Does anyone else love seeing the potential in things? Got any stories or photos of your favourite op-shop finds?

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When most people think of Australia, they picture golden beaches, blue skies and the Sydney Harbor Bridge. But for those Aussies like me who live at the southern end of the country – life is a lot more varied than that.

In Melbourne, down the bottom of Australia, we have four distinct seasons: Summer, Autumn, Winter and Spring. We go from 40 + degrees Celsius in Summer all the way down to crisp four degree days in Winter. Weather tends to dominate a lot of our conversations – and most of the time we’re either complaining it’s too hot or too cold.

But would I swap our seasons for a life of constant warm days? Probably not.

Seasons give a nice rhythm to life… with plenty of positives to outweigh the negatives. Right now, we’re suffering through frosty Winter mornings and icy evenings. But I’m loving the freedom to get into my flannelette Pyjamas as soon as I get home from work. And I’m spending my evenings learning how to knit and crotchet while curled up in front of a good movie. There’s something about rainy days that seems to justify taking things a bit easy.

Watching my kids playing in piles of leaves with their cousin (below), I started thinking about how the seasons are a good metaphor for my moods.

Jumping in leaves with cousins…

Autumn

Autumn reminds me of anxiety and the first signs of depression. There’s a sense that – despite the lovely weather – there’s bleak times ahead. Like the leaves falling off the trees, there’s an impending feeling of gloom – like things are about to fall apart. I need to force myself to look around and see the beauty that’s still there… in the colour of the leaves, in the people who care for me.

Winter

Winter’s cold, dark, bleary days remind me of the dark pit of depression. No matter how hard you try to wish it into being, there’s a lack of sunshine – or joy – and you crave warmth and comfort. But like the bare branches – not dead but merely dormant – there is still life within me. I just need to get through this season.

Spring

Coming out of a depression, is a bit like defrosting after a long Winter. New buds appear on branches – just as tiny shoots of joy and hope start to appear in my life. I look around and notice life again – feeling for the first time in a long time that I want to spend time enjoying my friends and family. Happiness has crept up on me… bringing a smile to my face again and making me – like the trees around me – fruitful again.

Summer

Mania is hard to describe, but if I was to liken it to a season it would have to be the long, energetic, fun-filled days of Summer. Just like I’m often taken by surprise with a nasty sunburn while having fun on the beach, so to mania is something that creeps up… disguised by seemingly endless energy and ideas. And I end up needing protection and help to get through this season.

Living with mental illness, I’ve learnt that I need to be prepared for all seasons. I wouldn’t venture out into the blazing sun without a hat – or the snow without some gloves. So I can’t expect myself to face the ups and downs that come with bipolar without some form of protection – in my case, medication.

Coming to terms with this – and acknowledging it – frees me up to get on with living life. There will be ups, and there will be downs, but life will move on – and each season will soon pass.

Mariska xx

Do the seasons have an impact on your mental health? If so, what do you do about it? Would love to hear!

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I’m sitting, curled up with a sneaky handful of the kid’s Easter eggs, on the couch in our family room. For the first time in months, I’ve had the urge to write… and with the kids playing outside, I’ve actually got time to grab my laptop and start tapping away.

Only problem is… I have no idea what to write about.

After a fairly harrowing start to the year, with depression constantly nipping at my toes, I’m finally back on an even keel again. The urge to pour out my feelings into my diary as a way to get through each day is fading. That feeling of constant dread in the pit of my stomach is gone. I feel like I can participate in normal life again… able to feel joy, happiness and contentment.

But writing about feeling normal doesn’t seem like an interesting topic for a blog about being a mum with a mental illness. And so, I’m sitting here – munching away on my third Easter egg – wondering what to write about instead.

To be honest, feeling normal is probably a topic we should talk about more.

I’m sure that most of us mums have days, weeks, months or even years where life ticks along quite normally. Times when our minds aren’t racing uncontrollably, or our stomach isn’t tied up in knots of anxiety. Periods where other mums at school pick-up – or people we meet – would have no idea of the struggles that we have faced, or those that may lie in wait, just around the corner.

For those of us who have worked hard to get back to what we see as ‘normal everyday life’ – or who work hard to have things stay that way – it’s not something that we take for granted. Being able to participate fully in normal everyday life is a blessing. Being able to be there for our family – even on the most mundane days – is a blessing.

Sometimes it’s not until we experience a life not so ordinary, that we appreciate just how wonderful an ordinary life actually can be.

Mariska xx

Having gone through ups and downs with Bipolar, how do you feel when things seem to go back to ‘normal’?

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There’s nothing like a holiday. For me, the anticipation starts building months in advance, really kicking into gear a few weeks before I actually depart. During periods of stress, the planned departure date is there to daydream about – acting almost like a “finishing line” I push myself to reach.

Then there’s the holiday itself: days filled with swimming, BBQs and nature walks melting into one another, time to spend with family and friends – and (in my case) plenty of time to read a few good books.

But holidays can’t last forever and so, last month I found myself walking back into my workplace. After greeting my colleagues, and clearing away the clutter left from 2014, I sat staring at the computer screen. Normally one to enjoy my work, I had to force myself to turn on the computer and start answering emails.

Days later, my apathy still hadn’t lifted. My husband assured me that experiencing post-holiday blues was quite normal, but I couldn’t help feeling like a shadow had come over me.

In the weeks that followed, my mood continued to plummet. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but some of the joy seemed to have gone out of life. The thought of having to summon the energy to get through another year, seemed beyond me. Things that I could usually cope with triggered anxiety attacks.

Unspoken between my hubby and I was the thought that I might be entering another depressive episode. Neither of us had a desire to return to that dark place. And so we told ourselves that everything would be better after another short break – this time a week camping in a national park a couple of hours away.

Unlike our last holiday, when I had everything packed a week in advance, this time I left it to my poor hubby to get everything organised. On the morning of our departure, I dragged myself into the car and we started our journey.

As the kilometres passed, the weight that had been hanging over me seemed to lift. I listened to the kids’ chatter in the back seat and looked out at the road stretching before us. I felt like I was running away from everything that had been worrying me – which was exactly what I felt like doing.

By the time we got there, I had a smile on my face again. Every time a negative thought crept into my head, I pushed it away – telling myself I would deal with it after the holiday. I was desperately trying to recreate the “mountain top” experience of our last holiday.

And it worked. At least until I returned home and real life started up again.

As the weeks passed – and my anxiety kept building – I had to admit that I need more than just another holiday to alleviate my low mood. As a mum I can’t afford to not get help when I need it.

And so I went to see my psychiatrist – and walked away clutching a new prescription to help even things out. Now, I’m waiting for them to kick in.

The me I see in the mirror today is a far cry from the carefree me from a few months ago. But I guess that, having Bipolar Disorder, these tough times are part of the package. Along with the “mountain top” experiences, there’s going to be valleys of despair.

But when I’m struggling to follow others’ advice and “look on the bright side”, one thing I can do is look back at times like family holidays and realise that life does get better. And there’s plenty to look forward to.

Mariska xx

PS. Is anyone else struggling with anxiety or depression at the moment? What do you do to help cope during down times? I’m sure all us mums would love to hear your advice.

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This morning, getting ready to have my morning shower, I averted my eyes from the scales – and my reflection in the mirror. A few days earlier, I had been shocked to see the numbers on the scale had gone up… again.

After having lost a stack of weight in the past couple of years, I’ve been struggling to stop the kilos piling back on since having to increase my medications after an episode of depression last year.

Not only that, but one of the medication, Epilim, is having another awful side-effect – causing my hair to fall out… not a great feeling for a woman. Every time I run my hands through my hair, precious strands float away.

Like many people who have been on anti-psychotic or mood-stabilizing medications before, I know that weight gain is a well-documented side effect. But the hair thing came as a nasty surprise.

Asking my psychiatrist about it at our next appointment, she talked me through my (very few) alternative options. One of the drugs she suggested came with no risk of weight gain or hair loss. “Great!” I thought. Until she mentioned that if I noticed a rash appearing while I was taking it, I needed to get straight to a Doctor – as it could be fatal.

Unwilling to take the risk of dying – no matter how small the odds – I’ve decided to stay on the same medications for now. After all, they are keeping me well and after experiencing my first bout of depression, I have no desire to go back there. I’ll just up the exercise and start eating a little healthier (which isn’t a bad thing I guess!).

Still, as a woman, I must admit that it annoys me that I have to (literally) make the decision between my brain and my beauty.

Having noticed friends facing similar weight-gain issues, I’m betting that the pharmaceutical company that manages to create a mood-stabilizing or anti-psychotic drug without this self-esteem blowing side-effect will have many satisfied customers.

What are your expriences with medication and side-effects? What steps have you taken to counter them? We’d love to hear from you!

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I’m one of those people who love to celebrate New Year’s Eve. This year, house-sitting my parent’s small farm, we decided to invite two other families with young kids around to bring in the New Year with us.

After enjoying a barbeque dinner and games of backyard cricket and footy, we tucked the kids into bed and sat around chatting, enjoying a glass of wine and waiting to see the fireworks when the clock struck midnight.

When one of the other women suggested we take turns to say our highlight for 2013, my husband Nathan and I glanced at each other. I don’t think either of us would say that 2013 was a great year for our family. With business troubles and my struggles with anxiety and depression, this year has been a tough one for both of us.

Yet, sitting there, listening to others talk about their highlights (new babies, houses sold and bought etc.) I recalled something C.S Lewis once said: ‘Getting over a painful experience is much like crossing monkey bars. You have to let go at some point in order to move forward.’

This quote stuck in my mind because it reminded me of our four-year-old daughter, who loves the monkey bars but is too scared to let go with one hand to reach for the next bar. Instead, she hangs there until, eventually, she drops.

With this in mind, my New Years resolution for 2014 is to let go of the past and start moving forward again.

Having a whole new year ahead of me feels like opening a brand new journal… crisp, new pages ready to be written upon. And so, instead of dwelling on the past (see my post Unforgiveness: Don’t let it corrode you) I am going to look forward to the many wonderful things awaiting me this year.

Sure, our life is bound to have ups and downs and be far from perfect. But perfect would be boring right?

Have you made a New Year’s resolution? I would love to hear it!

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A few months ago, my first episode of depression hit me out of the blue. Having just swapped roles with my husband to take on my dream job at World Vision, I suddenly found myself under a dark cloud.

Sitting at my desk at work, I would be overcome with anxiety – wondering how I would get through the next hour, let alone the years of work ahead of me.

Being a new employee and the sole income earner for our young family, I put on a brave face in front of my colleagues. But each night, I spent hours despairing; from my anxiety that I wasn’t good enough for my new job, to my fear that I would lose my job.

As the weeks passed, I withdrew into my shell, losing my happy, extroverted nature and turning down invitations to catch up with friends or family members. Even my Facebook posts stopped. How do you announce on social media that you feel like you’re falling apart?

One particularly bad night, driving home from work, I couldn’t stop the tears rolling down my cheeks. I pulled into the carpark of our local supermarket and hysterically sobbed to God: “Help me! I don’t know what to do and I need you to help me.”

And He did.

The next night my husband and I were wondering through a shopping centre and we bumped into old, dear friends – who we hadn’t seen for many months. When they invited us to have dinner with them, I found myself agreeing.

While the guys chatted, I poured out my heart to my friend – who kindly pointed out that it sounded like I had depression and should see my psychiatrist immediately. The next day, she rang to make sure I had made an appointment.

This encounter gave me the strength to be honest with people. Later that week, in church, an older woman asked me “How are you?” I answered with a candid, “Not well. Will you pray for me?”

She did, and so did a handful of my other friends who I confided in. They continued to text me to check how I was going, and also provided encouragement for my husband.

Some of the bible verses they sent via sms like: ‘cast all your anxiety on Him, because He cares for you,” (1 Peter 5 verse 7) were responsible for keeping me going some days.

Tough times and depression stir the hermit crab within us. We want to hide out, run away and avoid human contact. In reality, we need community more than ever.

Cancel your escape to the Himalayas. Forget dreams of a deserted island. Instead, through the storms of life be a barnacle – and cling to the rock that is your God, friends, family or other support networks.

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